


once ye pop, ye cannae stop: omg(s)topme

by anamuan



Category: 4TOPS, Johnny's Entertainment, NewS (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Begging, Biting, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Food Making Out, Friendship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Post-Coital Cuddling, Power Play, Rough Sex, Rubbing Off, Scratching, Teasing, vocal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-06
Updated: 2008-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-28 19:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20784080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamuan/pseuds/anamuan
Summary: Jin brings Poptarts home from LA; Toma and Yamapi take advantage.





	once ye pop, ye cannae stop: omg(s)topme

**Author's Note:**

> Cowritten with [](https://ky-rin.livejournal.com/profile)[ky_rin](https://ky-rin.livejournal.com/). Thank you [](https://grunhilda.livejournal.com/profile)[grunhilda](https://grunhilda.livejournal.com/) for the cute-as-hell title. ♥

How they end up on Yamapi’s couch eating poptarts is anyone’s guess. Jin had brought back the sweet, cavity-inducing pastry from his recent trip to Los Angeles in response to Yamapi's demands to “bring back something special for your poor deprived friends”; he'd packed his luggage to the brim with boxes of a variety of flavours.

“Mmmm,” Toma intones around a mouthful of strawberry jelly-filled pastry, Wii controllers abandoned at his feet because they've got their hands occupied with the sweet dessert.

Yamapi just frowns at his own chocolate-covered confectionery and pouts a little. “This is too sweet,” he says.

"I'll take it," Toma grins cheekily, and leans over to lick the crumbs off the side of Yamapi's mouth.

However, Yamapi turns his head to catch Toma's mouth instead. Toma's surprised, but maybe only a little--since he just hums and responds eagerly, chasing the sweetness of the poptarts in Yamapi's mouth.

Pi growls and pulls Toma into his lap. "I was eating that," he murmurs into his mouth. Leaning back, Toma settles himself comfortably against Yamapi's knees, and grins a grin that makes the happy lines appear around his eyes. "Sharing is caring," he admonishes Yamapi, running his tongue over Yamapi's bottom lip.

Keeping Toma in place with hands settled on his hips, Yamapi licks his way into Toma's mouth. Toma squirms in his grip when Yamapi's hands travel upwards underneath his shirt, making little noises into Yamapi's mouth that seem to wind them both up, kissing like they haven't seen each other in a million years (even though they had dinner together yesterday). Yamapi pulls back and bites a line along Toma's jaw, hand scraping high on Toma's stomach. Toma moves into the touch, tilting his head back to expose the line of his neck and Adam's apple to Yamapi, who takes full advantage of the better access. Yamapi feels Toma's breath catching in his chest when he scrapes his teeth across Toma's exposed throat, so he does it again.

Toma's sure he's coming across as desperate from the way air is leaving his lungs in little whimpering noises and the way he arches forward to try and rub against Yamapi, skin craving more contact, but he doesn't really care. Yamapi chuckles and bites his collarbone, before pulling back to pull Toma's t-shirt up over his head; Toma whines at the sudden loss of contact when he pulls away, and then shivers at the sudden cold, but then Yamapi is pressing closer again and suddenly everything is so much better.  
  
Toma scrabbles to take off Yamapi's shirt as well, but it's really kind of hard because Yamapi's leaning forward and bending him backwards, maneuvering him onto his back on the couch. Toma tumbles onto his back and Yamapi climbs on top of him, settling one leg in between his thighs. Toma brings his knees together with a cheeky quirk of his lips because he thinks Yamapi's expecting him to spread them instead; Yamapi just raises his leg to rub against Toma and smirks victoriously when he spreads them (anyway) with a groan.  
  
Yamapi runs a hand down from the top of Toma's pants, and smirks at the way Toma whimpers and arches into the touch. "You're so easy."

"Am not," Toma tries to deny even though his body says otherwise with the way it's arching and responding heatedly, every single touch pooling in his groin. He purses his lips and tries to regain some of his lost dignity. "Am not and you're not fucking me tonight."

"Oh really. Are you sure about that." Yamapi punctuates his sentence by grinding his leg up against Toma and laughs at the way Toma rolls against him. "I guess if you don't want to, you don't want to."

Suddenly Yamapi is sitting back up. Toma whines--he can't help it--at the sudden loss, and then his hands are scrabbling at Yamapi's shoulders, pulling him back down. Yamapi puts his hands on Toma's biceps and presses him down into the couch, elevating himself above the other man while holding him down with his body weight, making full use of his position to prove his point. He dips his head down slightly to hiss in Toma's ear: "I think you should be honest with yourself."

Toma shudders at the feeling of Yamapi's so close to his ear and he hates himself for it because he knows there's no way Yamapi didn't notice, not when he's pressed to him like that. He turns his head away, but keeps his mouth resolutely shut. Of course, Yamapi notices that as well, so he bites down hard on Toma's earlobe, relishing the feeling of Toma's body jerking against his. He pulls away again, but not before he runs his tongue teasingly over Toma's bottom lip. Toma arches his neck, trying to get more of Yamapi's mouth, more of his tongue, before he realizes what he's doing. Yamapi trails teasing fingers down Toma's chest, tracing the curve of his muscles and scraping over the skin of his stomach to rest lightly at the top of his pants. "Toma, did you want something? If you want something, you have to say it."

The soft material of the couch twists in his fingers and Toma's grip tightens as he tries to stop his almost automatic response to give in, to give up to that tempting bedroom voice, to actually ask for it. He's achingly hard, and his body seems to think, well, _fuck_ pride and just _say it_. Toma grinds his teeth together and bites out a soft "please" with a desperate upward roll of his hips.

"_Please what_?" and Yamapi's grin is positively _evil_ as he scratches four red lines on Toma's stomach, four little red arrows pointing to what Toma wants most.  
  
"Please _fuck me_, you ass," he spits out, impossibly hard and angry and a little ashamed, and embarrassingly, even that turns him on more at this point.

"Ooh, temper, temper," Yamapi continues to smile at the other's rage, hooking his fingers on Toma's pants and dragging his nails slowly across the skin on his right hipbone. "However, I would be happy to fuck _your_ ass." He emphasizes his point by roughly grabbing Toma's hips, dragging him closer as he grinds down at the same time.

Toma grinds back up just as hard, and then he's pushing Yamapi up and off him and scrabbling at the button of his fly (rather unsuccessfully, because he can't seem to make his fingers work right; he can hardly see at this point). He finally pops the button, and then he's wriggling out of his jeans and boxers, hissing whenever the rough material brushes over him. Yamapi sits back to let him work and makes quick (and much more coordinated) work of his own pants.

When they have gotten their clothes out of the way, Toma practically latches himself onto Yamapi's mouth. From the way they are kissing, hard and rough and needy on both sides now, Toma's not the only one who's worked up. "How'd you get off on this," Toma mumbles into Yamapi's mouth as they fumble around to get into a comfortable position on the couch. Yamapi's only response is to grope him between his legs, causing him to gasp into their kiss.

Toma jerks his hips up into Yamapi's hands. Yamapi grunts into his shoulder, rolling his hips down against Toma, and just the sound--not to mention the friction--goes straight to Toma's cock. He doesn't think he can take much more of this and he can't believe how fast Yamapi got him this worked up.

"_Please_," Toma whines and Yamapi takes that as an encouragement to move his hands faster along the length of Toma's cock. The ragged groan that is dragged from Toma's throat when he drags his nails across the underside and along the circumference of the head goes straight to his own arousal. Toma's breaths becomes shorter as he approaches the edge of orgasm and it eggs Yamapi on to whisper dirty words into his ear. "I knew you'd _beg_," he growls, bucking his own hips hard against Toma's leg.

The feeling of Yamapi hard against his skin makes his head buzz. He can hear someone whimpering and moaning over Yamapi's voice and he shivers when he realizes it's him. He's making those sounds, and Yamapi keeps whispering dirty things--things about how hot Toma is, how dirty Toma is, how much he needs it. Things about how the sounds Toma makes as he arches into his touch drive him crazy. Things about what he wants to do to Toma later--in his ears, hand tightening around his cock and with a final groan (that was more like a sob), Toma comes in a sticky mess between their stomachs.

Yamapi barely gives him any time to catch his breath before he is dragged off the couch and towards the bedroom, Yamapi practically throws him onto his bed, fumbling quickly in the bedside drawers for the lubricant he keeps there. "I thought you said you were going to fuck me," Toma goads at the other's impatience as he gets the slippery gel all over his fingers (where it's supposed to go anyway).  
  
"Shut up," Yamapi spits out as he flips Toma around and presses his face into the pillows, the older man protesting weakly at being yanked around.

Yamapi doesn't waste time prepping him, but he's relaxed from his release, so he doesn't protest the hurried pace. Yamapi rolls a condom on with his other hand and speeds up his slippery fingers. Pretty soon Toma is pressing back against his hand as much as he can in his position. He can feel himself hardening against the sheets and the friction is delicious as Yamapi (finally) presses into him. He _doesn't_ moan 'yesssss' as Yamapi does, but only because he's got a mouthful of pillow.

Yamapi groans as he leans forward and puts all of his weight into the impossible tightness, one hand on Toma's hip pulling him back and the other on Toma's shoulder holding him down. Rough sounds rip from both their throats when he starts to move--Toma bites the dry cotton and Yamapi bites his own lip as they fight the heady rush of the desire to fuck like rabbits, taking it slow at first to get accustomed to the feeling of being _together_. Toma scratches at whatever he can get of Yamapi (mostly his forearms) to signal when he's ready.  
  
Yamapi rolls his hips into Toma slowly and every movement, every bit of friction pull moans from Toma's throat. He keeps clawing at Yamapi's arms. He likes the way his skin feels under his nails. And Yamapi isn't moving fast enough.

Yamapi knows he's not moving fast enough, and his body is fighting his mind but his willpower wins the rest of him over with the promise of how much better it's going to be. He scratches his nails down Toma's back because he knows the other will like it (and from the way Toma's muscles go taut and the way his spine stretches out, Yamapi isn't wrong about that). Toma keens under his touch and writhes against the sheets wantonly, pushing back as far as Yamapi lets him. "So what do you do now?" Yamapi sneers, threading fingers into Toma's hair. Toma splutters as his head is yanked back suddenly and Yamapi thrusts into him _hard_, burying himself to the hilt.  
  
"Wa- want it, _fuck_, Yamashita, will you _please_ fucking move --" Toma pleads, turning his head back far enough to see Yamapi's eyes, hard and black, and he shivers from the intensity of it.

Yamapi speeds up at last, pounding into Toma as he begs. A shudder works its way down Yamapi's spine and pushes his hips forward harder and faster. He loves it when Toma begs. Toma just keeps moaning and pushes back into Yamapi with as much force as he can. He _needs_ it, and he's just come, and he is hard from the prep alone, and he's fucking shameless when he gets like this with Yamapi behind him. Yamapi slides an arm around Toma's chest and lifts him up, snapping his hips harder still and even though he doesn't have the friction from the sheets anymore, when Yamapi sinks his teeth into the back of his neck, Toma comes onto the bed with a strangled cry.

Yamapi feels Toma clamping down on him and he groans hard, thrusting forward sharply one last time before he lets go and goes careening over the edge, the force of his orgasm blowing up behind his eyelids and it's even better than he expected as all the strength and tension in his muscles vanishes with a roar as he collapses onto Toma, dropping them together onto the bed.

They lie in a boneless heap for a few good minutes before Toma finally reaches over the edge of the bed to retrieve the abandoned covers and drag them up to cover the both of them. He places a small kiss on Yamapi's forehead before he's dragged down with a firm hand on the back of his head for a languid kiss. Yamapi smiles as he lets Toma run fingers over his body now instead, gently stroking the lines of his side underneath the duvet as they exchange one last conversation without the need for words.


End file.
